


Extra Screening

by HedonistInk



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Airports, Amputee Shiro (Voltron), Anxiety, Coincidences, Developing Relationship, Disabled Character, Dogs, Emotional Support Animals, First Meetings, Frisking, M/M, Sheithlentines 2017, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, Trans Male Keith (Voltron), trans fic by trans authors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9855461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedonistInk/pseuds/HedonistInk
Summary: Flying made Keith… nervous. No, nervous was an understatement. Flying made him fucking terrified. Well. It wasn't the flying. He loved being up in the air, the pressure of the takeoff and the landing. It was the whole process that getting there involved. TSA, security, check-ins. Would they question him? Would they question his ID? But he had to just get it done.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Risa, aka kayochins on twitter for the Sheithlentines 2017 exchange! When you said trans!Keith and Shiro with a service dog, this was what came to mind. I opted to write Black as an emotional support animal because I'm familiar with their procedures and regulations (having an ESA myself) versus for service dogs I'm not as sure about how it works. Sorry it's a little bit late! I'm not sure if you have an AO3 I can gift this to? If you do, let me know & I'll gift it! 
> 
> As always, comments & kudos are treasured and appreciated!

Flying made Keith… nervous. No, nervous was an understatement. Flying made him fucking terrified. Well. It wasn't the  _ flying _ . He loved being up in the air, the pressure of the takeoff and the landing. It was the whole  _ process _ that  _ getting there _ involved. TSA, security, check-ins. Would they question him? Would they question his ID? The marker on his license said M but even with his binder tightened to health-endangering levels, he'd never been able to get completely flat. Damn things. But he had to just get it done. 

He stepped into the body scanner, biting his lip and feeling awkward as he raised his hands on either side of his head like the diagram told him to do. The scanner whirred, the large panels rotating this way and that. When it was done, he dropped his hands to the side, looking to the TSA agent to be told he could pass through. But… the agent wasn't saying he could pass through. Instead, the one manning the computer was frowning at it, pointing and gesturing at something on the screen with confusion while the one who should have been waving him on without incident looked over her shoulder. 

"Step to the side, please." The gruff man beckoned him with one hand while pointing to the side, to a little section off to the side with tables on two walls and a door on another. 

Keith's eyes went wide in a moment of panic before he schooled his face again as he stepped out of the body scanner. "Is… there a problem?" 

"Wait over there please." The man eyed Keith up and down with a frown, focusing on his chest. "You want a male agent or a female for the extra screening?" 

Great. They couldn't even tell. Was it his binder? His binder had totally flagged something in the system, hadn't it. Keith's throat felt tight. "I… ahm… What… whichever…" He forced a small shrug, his words feeling stilted and awkward as he tried to keep them from pitching up in his nerves. 

The man gestured to the side and Keith couldn't resist crossing one arm across his chest as he headed off to the side area. He felt like he was being sent to time-out. What did 'extra screening' entail, anyway? He'd seen the horror stories people posted online of TSA agents feeling them up and groping at them, trying to figure out which parts were 'real' or not by their own definitions. An agent came over, setting his backpack and shoes on the table behind him, still in their bin from the conveyer belt. 

A moment later, though, and he had company. A man was walking over to him. A man with a dog. It looked… very fluffy, slightly shaggy fur in a mottled mix of black and white with hints of brown. That was one big damn dog. Keith couldn't help but step back from it slightly when it looked up at him with large bright blue eyes. 

A chuckle from somewhere behind the dog had Keith's gaze snapping up to the man who held the dog's leash. "She won't bite. She's been trained out of that for a long time." 

Keith blinked at the man whose eyes were nearly as brilliant of a grey as the dogs were of a blue. Steel and ice, Keith thought. He found his gaze flicking over the broad scar across the middle of his face and the fact the hand not holding the leash looked… metal or some sort of high density plastic. Whatever it was, it was incredibly…  _ shiny _ . He looked up again, dismissing the thought. "Don't they normally make any pet that won't fit under the seat go into cargo?" He gestured at the dog. "I think she might be a bit cramped." 

The man shrugged, patting at his pocket. "Black is… special. She helps me. There's rules for it." A simple explanation, no more details than were needed. 

Yet, despite that, Keith  _ wanted _ more details.  _ Why _ was she special? What made her special? What special rules? How was this man so confident the dog wouldn't bite? Was she some kind of service dog? But why didn't she have one of those fancy vests? Didn't they normally have fancy vests? Keith kept quiet, none of the questions making it past his lips. 

A man finally came over, starting with the stranger and asking him for something, presumably whatever he'd been patting at. The man with the dog was polite with his reply, saying that he'd called ahead and had 'the letter', whatever that meant. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it over to the TSA agent. Whatever it was, there was some sort of official-looking letterhead on the top. Keith tried to not snoop as the TSA agent scowled his way through reading the paper before nodding and handing it back over. 

Gesturing for the man with the dog to hold his arms out, he proceeded to pat him down before patting down the dog--Black, had he said?--as well with some hesitation. The dog… shockingly didn't move in the slightest, just standing there, panting with her tongue lolling out of her mouth as though she hadn't a care in the world. That was one relaxed dog considering all the chaos and bustle of the airport. Keith wasn't even that relaxed. Well… that might have been a bad example. Keith was  _ far _ from relaxed. If anything, the more time he had to stand there with his backpack and shoes off to the side and not on his person, the more anxious he was getting. 

Still, Keith tried to stay casual, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking advantage of his resting bitch face. Which really meant he wound up scowling at a place on the carpet a few feet in front of him. Unconsciously, he wound up gnawing at his lip, zoning out somewhat out of reflex, disconnecting himself from the situation. It would be fine. They'd just… pat him down… feel him up… make decisions about which parts of him belonged and which parts didn't… God he didn't want them to touch him.

"Arms out to your sides."

The voice startled Keith out of his silent panic, making him jump and tense, gaze shooting up and darting around. The TSA man was suddenly in front of him. The man with the dog was standing off to the side, looking at him curiously. He'd been told to do something. What was it? Arms. Right. Arms. Keith hurried to comply, arms all but shooting out to his sides as his body took on a perfect T-shape. He swallowed nervously, posture stiff. Keith was sure his hands were trembling. His palms were definitely sweating. 

"Shiro." The voice of the man with the dog cut through his panic. 

"H-huh?" Keith's voice cracked awkwardly as the TSA agent started at Keith's left wrist. Maybe if he'd opted to wear short sleeves. Or something thinner. Maybe then he could have--

"My name. It's Shiro." 

"O-oh… Uh… Keith… I'm… I'm K-Keith." Keith tried to not squark as his chest was patted against and then smoothed out and over as the agent apparently tried to figure out what a binder was. 

"Business or pleasure, Keith?" This Shiro guy was really determined to keep him talking, wasn't he? 

"U-uh? Uh b-business I guess? I have an i-interview with a s-school…  _ Hey! _ " Keith yelped as his upper inner thigh was patted at, way too close to his groin for comfort. But thankfully that was as close as the man got before telling him to turn around. 

"Oh that's cool! Good on you." Shiro's voice was warm, genuine. He sounded like an older sibling congratulating a younger. "What're you looking into doing?" 

"Engineering. Well. Aeronautical engineering, eventually, hopefully, I guess." 

There was a pause at that and Keith's gaze flicked over to see Shiro looking at him with an expression somewhere between surprised and impressed. 

"What is that some big shock?" Keith couldn't help biting out his words. He was used to people not believing he could do it. 

"N-no! No. It's just… interesting. I used to uh… I used to be a pilot." 

"Why'd you stop?" The question was out of Keith's mouth before the obvious answer smacked him in the face and if he weren't afraid of getting tackled by air marshals he would have slapped a hand over his mouth. "Fuck. Shit. Nevermind. Sorry." 

Shiro blinked at him before chuckling, shaking his head as he scratched at Black's head. "No… it's… it's okay. It was… It was a while ago now." 

"Still. That's no excuse and I--" 

The TSA agent had circled back around to the front of Keith and was again patting at his shoulders and collarbones, feeling out the edges of the binding vest. 

Keith groaned in annoyance, hiking up his shirt to mid-chest in frustration to show off the tight black nylon tank underneath his shirt. "Here. Look. That's all it is. Okay? It's just a binder. Are we good?" 

The man narrowed his eyes at Keith before nodding and waving him on. "You can go. Don't forget your personal items." 

There was a snickering to the side of him and Keith looked over to see Shiro covering his mouth. 

"What the hell's your problem." What did this fucker think his binder was funny or something? And here they'd been getting along so  _ swimmingly. _ Typical. With a frown, Keith turned sharply, moving to get his shoes and tug them on, slinging on his jacket and grabbing his backpack. 

That seemed to sober the guy up quick enough and he shook his head, easily falling to match Keith's pace as he walked. "No! Nothing. Just… I don't think you're supposed to do that. He looked like you just slapped him with a dead fish." 

Keith couldn't help a snort at the mental image, shrugging. "Yeah, well, he pissed me off. It's not my fault if their damn scanner can't make sense of me because their algorithm is fucked up." 

Beside him, Shiro nodded sagely. "You shouldn't have to deal with that. But… Such is life. Anyway…" They were at the end of the security hallway, the path opening up to the broadness of the terminal. Shiro was checking his ticket for his terminal number and Keith hurried to do the same. Seemingly finding what he was looking for, Shiro nodded, shoving his ticket back in his pocket. "Well… It was nice meeting you, Keith." 

"Oh… Uh… Yeah… You too, Shiro. Uh… bye, I guess?" Keith offered an awkward wave. 

Shiro blinked for a moment before waving back with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes. Then they both headed off. ...In the same direction. ...Down the same corridor. Well… that was a weird, awkward coincidence. But still, Keith's gate was at the far end of the hallway. He was sure Shiro would turn off to one of the closer gates before then. But as they kept walking… and kept walking… Shiro was still at his side, Black trotting along contentedly between them. By the time they got to the end of the hallway, Shiro looked more amused than anything and Keith was sure his own face was pulled down into a scowl. What the fuck. 

When Keith turned towards his gate, Shiro turned as well. Okay no, this was just absurd. 

"What gate are you." Keith demanded flatly. 

"A23. It looks like you are too." That amused expression had seeped into his tone. 

Keith wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or scowl more. Instead, his lips twitched indecisively at their corners. With a huff, he stomped over to a seat and flopped into it. If it happened to be a seat near the end but not  _ at _ the end so Shiro could maybe--hopefully--sit there too, that was pure coincidence. 

Shiro took the unspoken invitation and Keith felt his heart do a sort of backflip in his chest as the man settled into the seat beside him. Black trotted along to flop down at Shiro's feet and Keith couldn't help but stare. When she settled in completely, she huffed, the wind from her breath billowing the pants at Keith's ankles and making him shiver. When Shiro laughed at him, Keith didn't even hesitate to nudge the man with his shoulder, scolding him with a chuckle.

By the time Keith got off the plane at the other end, he had four things: a jacket covered in dog fur, a new phone number saved in his phone, coffee plans for the next afternoon after his interview, and a new appreciation for flying. Even if it meant a little extra screening. 


End file.
